TheSleepingSphinx - (EPUB全文下载)

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VIOLENCE
PASSION
TERROR
There was a streak of madness in the ancient and honorable Devereux family. No one, not even the family doctor, could tell when, or in whom, it might make its ugly appearance.
Their own grandmother said of the two beautiful Devereux girls: "One of my granddaughters is all right But I've been worried about the other since she was a little child."
Now one of the girls was dead, murdered. And no one knew which of the sisters—the dead Margot, or the lovely, living Celia— was a cunning, sexually deranged, exceedingly dangerous madwoman.
♦THE SLEEPING SPHINX-JOHN DICKSON CARR AT HIS BEST!"
JOHN DICKSON CARR
the sleeping
sphinx
Bantam Books · New York
A Bantam Book published by arrangement with Harper & Brothers
Harper edition published February 1947
Detective Book Club edition published April 1946
Published in the Collier set 1947
Condensation appeared in the Toronto star weekly July 1947
Bantam edition published May 1952
2nd printing June 1952
New Bantam edition published November 1958
Copyright, 1947, by John Dickson Carr
All rights in this book are reserved. It may not be used for dramatic, motion- or talking-picture purposes without written authorization from the holder of these rights. Nor may the book or part thereof be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission in writing except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
THE SLEEPING SPHINX
CHAPTER I
The road, so long that it looked narrow, had on its left the thick greenery of Regent's Park and on its right the tall iron railings around St. Katharine's Precinct of St. Katharine's Church. Just beyond, next to St Katharine's, you could see the line of trees which screened from the road a terrace of tall, stately houses looming white through the dusk.
Number 1, Gloucester Gate. He could see it now.
It was the turn of the evening: faintly blue and white, with birds bickering from the direction of the park. The heat of the day still lingered in this avenue which seemed no less rural for being in the middle of London. Donald Holden stopped in his slow walk, and gripped his hand around one of the bars of the fence. Panic? Something very like it, at least
Of all the ways in which he had pictured his home coming —and there had been many of them—he had never pictured it as anything like this.
Things were much too altered in seven years. You might have hoped they were not ruined; but at least they were altered.
He thought he had appreciated the ............

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